


breaking free

by towine (snippetcee)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: High School Musical References, M/M, Pre-Canon, Singing, THAT'S RIGHT.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snippetcee/pseuds/towine
Summary: Once the song ended and the adrenaline passed and mortification began creeping up in its stead, Noctis had said, “Please don’t tell anyone that I sing.”Prompto said, “Dude, of course your secret is safe with me.”(from the kink meme: Noctis and Prompto audition for the spring musical.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fill for [a prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=1688008#cmt1688008) on the kink meme! this is absolutely inspired by high school musical the movie, A CLASSIC, and the songs are taken from there (except for 'livin' on a prayer'). i hope you get a kick out of this as much as i did writing it.

Noctis is tempted to ditch school altogether for the next two months. Give his theater teacher Ms. Clemens some excuse about absolutely necessary princely duties requiring his attention, then wish her and all the rest of the class good luck in getting the spring production finished without him. There are plenty of other students available, he’s certain they’d be able to manage it.  
  
But that would mean failing the final semester of his theater elective class. And even _worse_ , Prompto would be bummed if Noctis wasn’t there. Not bumming Prompto out is pretty high on Noctis’ list of Things He Considers of Greatest Importance, so he suffers through reading the play, suffers through all the students practicing their singing in the hallways, and suffers through all the whispers and giggles about who gets to play opposite Noctis in whatever part their dear Prince of Lucis lands.  
  
Well, they’re gonna be pretty disappointed, Noctis thinks, as he makes his way out of the classroom after the bell rings and signs his name on the sheet for “Props/Set Design” and vows never to set foot in front of an audience.  
  
-  
  
“You don’t even want to try auditioning?” Prompto says, during a day in class where they’ve all been assigned to make posters advertising the spring musical and the upcoming auditions.  
  
Noctis shakes his head, carefully painting flower designs around the word SPRING in red.  
  
“Wow, that looks really nice, Noct,” Prompto says over his shoulder, to which Noctis says a quiet, “Thanks.”  
  
“You know what else you’re really good at besides painting flowers?” Prompto continues. “ _Singing_.”  
  
“Hey,” Noctis hisses, “no one knows about that, alright?”  
  
“Well I do, and I think the rest of the world is seriously missing out.”  
  
“The _world_?”  
  
“Well, the school, Insomnia, all of Lucis. You know the whole country’d turn up if they knew their prince was going to be in a musical.”  
  
“All the more reason to save the school from the embarrassment.”  
  
“Aw, come on, Noct.” Prompto drops into a chair beside the desk Noctis is working on to meet Noctis’ downturned gaze. “You’re good. And I know you actually like singing.”  
  
Noctis sighs as he rounds out the last petal of a flower, then drops his brush back into the cup of red paint on the desk. “I don’t know, Prom. It’s just—it’s just not me.”  
  
Prompto is quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and places a hand, warm, on Noctis’ shoulder.  
  
“Alright, dude,” he says, “I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to, but for the record: I think you’d make the spring musical a thousand times better than it usually is.”  
  
Prompto pats his shoulder one more time before standing up and returning to his own poster on his desk. Noctis doesn’t say anything, just mulls over Prompto’s words as he picks up the brush and gets back to painting.  
  
-  
  
Noctis’ interest in singing is something he takes great pains in keeping strictly to himself and away from the rest of the world. Prompto is allowed to know because, well, he’s Prompto and Noctis likes him. And it’s hard to keep secrets when Prompto is over at Noctis’ place more often than he’s at his own: it only took one slip in Noctis’ normally carefully maintained vigilance, and Prompto had walked in on Noctis singing passionately along to a rock CD he borrowed from Gladio.  
  
Prompto hadn’t said anything at first, only jumped in with an air guitar and joined Noctis in singing, “ _OOOHH, WE’RE HALFWAY THERE—”  
  
_ Once the song ended and the adrenaline passed and mortification began creeping up in its stead, Noctis had said, “Please don’t tell anyone that I sing.”  
  
Prompto said, “Dude, of course your secret is safe with me.”  
  
Noctis was pretty sure, in that moment, that Prompto is his favorite person in the whole world. But that was beside the point.  
  
The point is: Noctis doesn’t like to sing in public.  
  
Even when the sheet music for the upcoming musical starts being passed around in preparation for auditions, even when Noctis hears his classmates humming the tunes or tapping a melody out on the class piano, even when he thinks the songs aren’t half bad and are actually kind of catchy, he refuses to take part and firmly keeps his mouth shut.  
  
On the actual audition day, Noctis keeps well away from center stage, instead staying backstage with Prompto and finishing painting the cardboard tree they’ve been assigned to make. Prompto mostly ignores all the singing and dancing occurring onstage and sleeps in the inside cavity of the fake tree, while Noctis paints the leaves and experimentally pokes dots of green paint on Prompto’s arm, seeing if he’ll wake up (he doesn’t).  
  
The last person to audition finishes singing through the designated audition song, ending on a high, trilling note that makes Noctis wince, both in slight pain and sympathy at the cringe on Ms. Clemens’ face.  
  
“Thank you so much, Diana,” she says, scribbling something down on her notebook with a grim expression. “The audition results will be up within the week.” After the student walks offstage, she asks, “Is anyone else here to audition?”  
  
Silence. Ms. Clemens looks around her, double checking that all who intended to audition have done so. “Even if you didn’t sign the sheet, we have time for last minute auditions.”  
  
Noctis pauses in his painting and takes a look at the stage. He’s glad Prompto is asleep—were he awake, he may have done something stupid like goad Noctis into getting up there, into singing in front of all these people, however sparsely populated the auditorium currently is. He squeezes his hand around the brush handle, and for a brief, unthinking second, he opens his mouth to say something.  
  
“That concludes the auditions, then,” Ms. Clemens says, snaps her notebook closed, and rises from her seat.  
  
Noctis closes his mouth, exhaling a breath he had been holding in his chest. Despite not auditioning in the first place, he can’t help but feel rejected somehow.  
  
End of auditions means end of class period, so Noctis nudges Prompto awake.  
  
“What happened?” Prompto says quickly, snapping to alertness and sitting up so abruptly the tree nearly topples over before Noctis grabs it with his hands.  
  
“Nothing,” Noctis says, steadying the tree. “Auditions are over.”  
  
“Oh.” Prompto looks around him at the steadily emptying backstage area as students begin putting away supplies and props and heading to their next class. “D’you sing?”  
  
“Of course not,” Noctis says, reaching a hand out to help Prompto onto his feet. “Why would I?”  
  
Prompto shrugs. “Just in case you changed your mind.” Noctis says nothing at that.  
  
As they start walking across the stage to where the stairs are, they pass by the piano set up by the stage for the auditionees to sing along to. The pianist had already left in a hurry to get to her next class, but in her haste, she must have forgotten some of the sheet music.  
  
Noctis wanders over to it, ignoring Prompto’s curious, “Noct?”  
  
It’s the music for the audition song, expectedly. Noctis doesn’t know what possesses him to take a seat at the piano and scan his eyes over the sheet music, what makes him poise his hands over the keys and play a slow, hesitant rendition of the song he’s heard ten times over in the last hour.  
  
When Prompto comes to stand beside the piano and lean against it as he plays, Noctis tells himself it’s the assurance that it’s just Prompto here and no one else that encourages him to part his lips, and sing.  
  
“ _It’s hard to believe that I couldn’t see… you were always there beside me_ ,” he sings tentatively.  
  
“ _Thought I was alone_ ,” Prompto joins with a grin, “ _with no one to hold… But you were always right beside me_.”  
  
Prompto’s not a bad singer, either. Even though he’s smiling amusedly as he sings, Noctis thinks their voices sound kind of nice together, and it pulls a smile onto his own face as he sings through the rest of the song. It’s different like this—not just him and his showerhead, not just the secrecy of the inside of his apartment, but on a real stage, with his voice echoing and ringing through the gaping expanse of the auditorium. Noctis can almost imagine people sitting in the seats, watching, and thinks maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being heard by the rest of the world.  
  
“ _So lonely before I finally found… what I’ve been looking for._ ” His fingers linger on the last chord of the song, his voice and Prompto’s voice fading into silence.  
  
“Noctis, Prompto,” comes the sudden voice of Ms. Clemens.  
  
Noctis whips his head around towards the entrance of the auditorium, where their theater teacher stands with a smile on her face.  
  
“Callbacks are next Friday,” she says. “Can we expect to see you two there?”  
  
Noctis is too stunned to say anything, suddenly unable to find his voice. Prompto seems to realize Noctis isn’t going to answer, so he says, “You sure can, Ms. Clemens, we’ll be there!”  
  
Noctis shoots him a look that Prompto ignores in favor of waving goodbye to the teacher, who leaves the auditorium looking satisfied.  
  
“Prompto!” Noctis bursts when she’s gone. “Dude!”  
  
“Come on, Noct! Just one callback, okay?”  
  
“I don’t—” Noctis sputters, feeling very overwhelmed and a little faint. “I-I—”  
  
“Hey Noct, calm down, okay buddy?” Prompto grabs Noctis’ hands, taking slow, deep breaths for Noctis to follow. Noctis does, with some effort, staring at Prompto with uncertainty. “Listen, it’s just one song, I’m sure there won’t be any more people than there were today, and I’ll be there with you, okay? You’re not gonna do it alone.”  
  
“You’ll be there?” Noctis says tentatively.  
  
Prompto nods firmly, emphasizing it by squeezing Noctis’ hands.  
  
If Prompto is going to be there too, then maybe, just maybe, Noctis can do this.  
  
-  
  
“I can’t do this.”  
  
“Okay,” Prompto says, “what is it that freaks you out?”  
  
They’re at Noctis’ apartment, sheet music spread out messily on Noctis’ coffee table next to Prompto’s phone they’re using to play the accompanying track they need. Noctis slumps onto the couch beside Prompto, and sighs with a weariness that comes straight from the soul.  
  
Prompto says, “Wow, Mr. Tortured Artist.”  
  
Noctis pokes Prompto’s side in the exact place he knows Prompto hates because it’s extra ticklish.  
  
“Hey!” Prompto yelps and bats his hand away. “Anyway, what are you thinking when you’re up onstage that makes you nervous?”  
  
“I don’t know…” Noctis begins, running a hand through his hair. “I just… see everyone staring at me, waiting for me to do something, and I just—” Noctis opens his hands out in front of him, staring at his palms. “Freeze.”  
  
Prompto nods sympathetically, patting his hand against Noctis’ knee. “Well, the lights will probably make it hard for you to see, if that makes you feel better? You probably won’t see past the first few rows.”  
  
“That’s still a few more rows of people than I’m comfortable singing in front of.”  
  
“Just don’t look at them, okay? Look at, like, the back wall of the auditorium or something.”  
  
“I guess,” Noctis mumbles.  
  
“Or, you know what,” Prompto says, “I’ll be up on stage with you, so just look at me.”  
  
Noctis raises an eyebrow. “Stare at you for the whole song?”  
  
“Sure, why not? I’m the only one you’re comfortable singing in front of, right?”  
  
That makes Noctis flush a little, the simple way that Prompto says it. But it’s the truth. “Y-Yeah.”  
  
“So just look at me.” Prompto smiles. “Come on, let’s practice.”  
  
Prompto stands and tugs at Noctis arm for him to stand up, too. He picks up two sheets of paper from the coffee table and hands one to Noctis, then reaches for his phone to press play on the accompaniment.  
  
“Ready?” he asks.  
  
Noctis nods. Just before the music starts, he closes his eyes and pictures himself onstage. The usual fear comes immediately, icy and sharp in his stomach. But then he thinks about turning away from the endless eyes of the audience and looking at Prompto instead, smiling, encouraging. The fear thaws, dissipates.  
  
When Noctis opens his eyes, Prompto is the first thing he sees. His eyes are blue as summer, and vibrant.   
  
“Eyes on me, okay?” Prompto reminds him, as if Noctis can look away.  
  
This time, singing comes easily—Noctis looks at Prompto and doesn’t think about the stage, the people who will be watching, or that this is an audition and a part in the play was on the line. All Noctis thinks about is how happy it makes him to sing with Prompto, how it doesn’t matter if anyone else is watching because he can do anything, as long as he has Prompto at his side.  
  
The song ends, and Prompto’s smile is so bright it’s nearly blinding.  
  
“That was amazing, Noct!” Prompto says, bouncing with excitement.  
  
Noctis can’t help but smile back. “You were pretty good, too.”  
  
“Not as good as you though, dude, you’re gonna crush this audition.” Prompto slings an arm around Noctis’ neck, tugging him in for a one-armed hug. The warmth of his body radiates through Noctis’ shirt.  
  
“Hey, hey,” Prompto says, suddenly thinking of something. “I’ve also heard that, when you’re really nervous onstage, it can help if you imagine the audience in their underwear.”  
  
That only succeeds in making Noctis think of Prompto in his underwear, which has his face heating up so fast Prompto exclaims worriedly about getting Noctis a glass of water.  
  
-  
  
On callback day, Noctis chews through an entire box of Tic Tacs by the end of second period. At the start of the third, he opens a new box.  
  
“You’re gonna get a stomachache, Noct,” Prompto tells him.  
  
“Don’t care,” Noctis says around a mouthful of the mint candies. “It’s either this, or bite my nails.”  
  
“You’re gonna be _fine_.” Prompto pats Noctis’ hand. The touch is just comforting enough to make Noctis put away the rest of the Tic Tacs.  
  
When the final bell of the day rings, Noctis can’t help but think it sounds a little like a death knell.  
  
The halls are flooded with students heading home; Noctis and Prompto have to walk against the flow of people to head towards the auditorium on the far side of campus. Prompto tugs at Noctis’ hand and says, “Come on, let’s try and get there early so we can practice a little.” He doesn’t let go during the entire walk there and Noctis is silently thankful.  
  
When they push through the doors of the auditorium, it’s empty. Callbacks aren’t for another thirty minutes, but Noctis is glad for this one moment of peace and solitude before his imminent death.  
  
“Dude,” Prompto says as they walk towards the stairs that lead onto the stage, “you look like you’re walking to your execution.”  
  
“That’s what it feels like,” Noctis mutters. There’s no Ms. Clemens here to berate them for it, so they sit together on the edge of the stage, their feet dangling over the orchestra pit.  
  
Prompto says nothing for a moment, just gazing out at the empty auditorium seats. Then he says, “You can still back out if you want. No hard feelings.”  
  
Noctis blinks, surprised.  
  
Prompto smiles, bumping Noctis with his elbow. “It’s your choice, okay? I’m here for you no matter what you do.”  
  
Noctis doesn’t know what to say, so he looks down at his shoes, instead.  
  
Prompto continues, “But if you want to know what I think: I think you love singing and that you’d really like the chance to sing with all you’ve got. I don’t think you would have practiced for a whole week, otherwise.”  
  
Prompto leans in so their shoulders touch, and his voice drops a little as if telling a secret. He says, “Also, I really like singing with you.”  
  
That startles an unnamable emotion out of Noctis, making him feel fluttery in his stomach for reasons other than nerves.  
  
Noctis’ lips curve into a small smile, and he says, “I like singing with you, too.”  
  
Prompto’s smile turns into a grin. “We got this, Noct.”  
  
-  
  
They stay backstage as the auditions go on. Noctis says it’s so they can practice, but mostly he doesn’t want to see who’s come to watch. He was kind of looking forward to seeing the other performances, but the moment Ms. Clemens had walked into the auditorium and auditions began, icy barbs of anxiety shot through Noctis so quickly, it was all he could do to pull Prompto backstage for some solitude.  
  
“Deep breaths okay, Noct?” Prompto says to him, hands on Noctis’ shoulders. “Just relax. We practiced, we can do this.”  
  
From beyond the curtains, they can hear Ms. Clemens’ voice say, “Noctis, Prompto. You’re up.”  
  
Noctis looks at Prompto, who gives him a firm nod and a squeeze to his shoulders. Together, they walk into the spotlight.   
  
The auditorium is much, much fuller than it was during the initial round of auditions, thanks to Noctis’ reputation, no less. There are gasps when he steps out, excited whisperings and giggles. There are still students slipping in through the auditorium doors, eager to see their prince.  
  
Noctis freezes.  
  
“This is unprecedented,” Ms. Clemens says to them, looking amused. “I hope you two are alright with an audience.”  
  
Noctis barely hears her, unable to register much else besides the curious gazes of everyone in the crowd.  
  
Prompto pushes him forward so he’s standing more center stage. Noctis realizes a microphone has been put in his hands, that the lighting on the stage is turning a little bluer and darker in preparation for their number.  
  
When the opening chords start, just as he’s memorized through hours and hours of practice, Noctis stares out at the endless expanse of waiting, watching eyes, and opens his mouth.  
  
Nothing comes out.  
  
Noctis’ hands feel numb, cold; the fear is back and this time, it won’t let go.  
  
The music stops. Prompto is suddenly in front of him, touching Noctis’ shoulder and guiding him to look away from the audience and towards him instead.  
  
“Noct,” Prompto says gently.  
  
“There are too many people here,” Noctis says with a shaky voice. “I can’t—I can’t do it.”  
  
“Hey,” Prompto says, stepping further between Noctis and the audience. “Just like we practiced, remember? Don’t think about anyone else here right now. Just look at me, okay? Just me.” His fingers touch Noctis’ chin, tilting his head so their gazes meet. When Noctis sees the familiar blue of his eyes, he begins to feel a tentative, fledgling grasp at calm. Like he always does when Prompto looks at him.  
  
Prompto turns to nod once at the pianist, and the music starts up again. He lifts his microphone to his lips.  
  
“ _We’re soaring_ ,” he sings, softly. “ _Flying. There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach._ ” He lifts his hand towards the twinkling lights strung up on the stage, like so many stars. He gives Noctis an encouraging look.  
  
Noctis breathes, and sings, “ _If we’re trying, so we’re breaking free_.”  
  
Prompto smiles and reaches out for Noctis’ hand. Noctis takes it. “ _You know the world can see us—in a way that’s different than who we are._ ”  
  
“ _Creating space between us… ‘Til we’re separate hearts_.” They let go, Noctis’ fingers brushing against Prompto’s in a lingering touch.  
  
Their voices join together, entwining, harmonizing in a way that makes Noctis’ heart feel light. “ _But your faith, it gives me strength—strength to believe..._ ”  
  
Prompto grins, and punches the air with energy when he sings, “ _We’re breaking free!_ ”  
  
They jump into the chorus with smiles on their faces, and Noctis forgets that anyone else is watching. Right now, it’s just him and Prompto and the music. Noctis sings with all the love and passion that he’s hidden inside himself for as long as he can remember, pulled out of him by the one person in the world who accepts him for who he is, and who he wants to be.  
  
As the song nears its end, Prompto and Noctis come to one another at the center of the stage, the lights focusing on them. They grasp hands as, together, they sing, “ _You know the world can see us—in a way that’s different than who we are._ ”  
  
The music fades out. The rest of the world comes back into focus; the sound of cheering and applauding reaches Noctis’ ears like a crashing wave.  
  
He looks and people are on their feet, clapping and hollering praises. Noctis feels breathless. He turns to Prompto, and Prompto is looking at Noctis and clapping for him too, smiling wide and bright. His cheeks are flushed from exertion, blond hair sticking to his forehead. Noctis thinks he looks beautiful.  
  
He leans forward and presses his lips to Prompto’s cheek. When he pulls away, Prompto is bright red all the way to his ears, his mouth dropped open.  
  
Noctis grins at him, feeling freer than he has in a long time. He reaches out for Prompto’s hand and says, “You’re supposed to bow.”  
  
“Oh!” Prompto stammers, abruptly turning to face the audience.  
  
Hand in hand, they take a bow.  
  
-  
  
“Think you’re ready to be the leading man?” Prompto asks during lunch period, when he and Noctis are sitting beneath the shade of one of the trees in the schoolyard. He steals potato chips from Noctis’ bag of them between every sentence of their conversation, but Noctis has never complained, only started bringing two bags to school instead of one.  
  
Noctis shrugs as he unfolds the plastic wrap around his sandwich. “You’re one of the leads too, you know.”  
  
“Yeah, but you’re gonna get all the best singing parts. You excited?”  
  
Noctis chews contemplatively. “I guess I am,” he says honestly.  
  
Prompto smiles. “That’s great, dude.”  
  
“Practicing together helps a lot, though,” Noctis admits quietly, looking up at Prompto through his bangs.  
  
Prompto’s smile turns a little shyer at that, and he bumps his knee against Noctis’ when he says, “Of course, Noct.”  
  
Noctis’ bumps his knee back and lets it stay there, maintaining the warm point of contact. “I’m thinking about inviting Ignis and Gladio to come see. Maybe even my dad.”  
  
Prompto sits up straight at that. “No way!” He slaps a hand against Noctis’ shoulder in disbelief.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Oh, we’re definitely practicing a lot, then,” Prompto says, already digging in his bag for the sheet music.  
  
Noctis doesn’t stop himself from singing aloud as he reads the music, this time; doesn’t flinch and shut his mouth when people walk by, doesn’t hide. And when he looks at Prompto, he doesn’t stop himself from pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, which—besides singing—is quickly becoming his new favorite thing. And he’s not afraid to show it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
